Foul Play at the Fair (11 page)

“Should I salt the hills with some more arrowheads?”

“What on earth?”

“To distract the editor of the
Clarion
from too much speculation about who murdered Pete Waterbury?”

“Trust me. He’ll just bury it in the police blotter that takes up a corner of the third page on each fourth week of the month. In case you haven’t noticed, he takes life on his own terms.”

“I noticed, and I suppose I should be happy that he’s so
lackadaisical. But I was hoping to get a little more enthusiasm from him on reporting the town’s events.”

“You write the copy and he’ll probably run it.”

“Why on earth did he ever agree to run the newspaper?”

“He was the last Bristow, so he inherited the paper and the job of editor.”

“Which reminds me,” Liv said. “Between the Peeping Tom and the murder, I forgot that we seem to owe Chaz Bristow for ads dating back to the spring. Is there any way we can check to see what we have paid him?”

“You can ask Janine.”

“Oh, thanks. You want to ask her?”

“Not me. That’s definitely one for the boss.”

“I assume he would have been paid out of the festival account? We should be able to go back and find the checks for what he was paid for. And we can look for that missing check while we’re at it.”

“I’ll get the checkbook.” He returned a minute later with a blue canvas checkbook and handed it to Liv.

“This could take all afternoon.” Liv turned to the first page and looked at the first three check stubs. “Do we always advertise in the
Clarion
?”

“It depends on the date and if Janine was on her high horse or not. It might be easier to look at back issues to see where the ads occurred. Or just take Chaz’s word for it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“He’s honest. And he’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

“A fish trap, maybe.”

Ted chuckled. “Well, regardless, he won’t mind waiting for a few days.”

“Unlike the Zoldosky brothers. I assume they’re still here.”

“Oh yeah, and not happy about it.”

“Do you know if Bill found out anything besides the fact they never told anyone that Pete was a Zoldosky?”

“You mean if they were in on it with him, whatever it was, like Roscoe suggested?” Ted said in a deadpan.

Liv cringed. “Well, not exactly, but it does seem odd that he had just signed on with them when they were on their way to Celebration Bay. Maybe using them as a cover? To do what?”

“I’m sure Bill will get to the bottom of it.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious? Or do you have insider information that you’re not allowed to share?”

“Neither. Shall we move on to the preparations for Haunted October?”

“If there is a Haunted October.” Liv wrapped up the remaining half of her sandwich and pushed it aside. She picked up a stack of invoices and glanced at the first one. “Okay. The tents are rented and guaranteed for weekend after next.”

“Andy said he’d have the corn maze open to the public by this Thursday and will have the Maze of Madness ready to go for the next three weekends.”

“I’m not sure how that works,” Liv said. “You walk through with a flashlight and things jump out at you?”

“Pretty much. The maze is not for the faint of heart. It only operates late at night and you have to be over twelve to go inside. We get a lot of college kids from the area. During the day you just get cornstalks and decorations, G-rated.

“The Fenways have already volunteered to do the hayrides this year if Joss decides it would be too much for him and Donnie and Roseanne. I thought I’d give them a few days to assimilate all this and get the funeral arranged before they have to decide.”

“They’re going to have a funeral?”

“They’ll have to. Pete was family. And family gets a funeral. I imagine it will be small, without the wake. But I doubt they’ll be able to stop folks from bringing food and visiting.”

“I don’t guess you’ve talked to Bill since yesterday morning?”

“Nope. I don’t envy him. Don’t envy him at all.”

“You think he’ll railroad the Zoldoskys?”

“One of them may be guilty.”

And even if they weren’t, it was beginning to look like the Zoldoskys were headed for a rough time. Liv had to admit she was a little spooked to see how quickly the town had closed ranks against outsiders. After all, she was an outsider herself.

The Harvest by the Bay Wrap-Up Committee meeting was packed and noisy. Normally, at least for the four meetings Liv had attended, they set up tables in the empty room and discussed things in a round-robin fashion. Tonight the tables had been pushed aside and chairs were set up haphazardly in rows, but no one was sitting down.

“Where did all these people come from?” Liv asked Ted as they entered the assembly room at town hall. “We never had this many people in the other meetings. Is this normal?”

“Well, we generally have the subcommittee heads attend, but my guess is you’ve got a town meeting on your hands.”

“Town meeting. On
my
hands? What town meeting?”

“Liv, is it true they want to close down the festivals?” Dexter Kent’s voice cut through the din.

All faces turned toward Liv.

“Is it?”

“They can’t do that.”

“Our livelihoods depend on it.”

Liv held up both hands. “Everyone sit down and I’ll tell you what I know.” She could brain Janine Tudor for causing this trouble.

“
This
town meeting,” Ted said as he guided her toward the raised platform at the front of the room.

For a split second she longed for one nasty bridezilla instead of what looked like nearly a hundred desperate townspeople. But only for a second. As she looked around
at the familiar faces, and the not-so-familiar faces, she knew she was looking at her new life, her new friends. And they were looking to her to save their bacon.

“Please sit down,” Liv repeated as she reached the center of the platform. Ted had pulled a chair to the side of the stage and sat down. He was placing it in her hands. Not a cop-out, but a show of faith.

“Evidently you’ve heard about some of the suggestions that were brought forward at the trustees meeting this morning.”

“Is Gilbert Worley out of his mind?”

This question was followed by loud support.

“If you’ll all keep calm, I’ll tell you exactly what was discussed.” She hoped she wasn’t breaking some trustee rule. But this had become bigger than four men and a mayor. All of whom were merely human and hopefully wanted the best for their town.

“It isn’t fair,” cried a solitary voice.

“What’s going to happen to all us farmers who depend on the market to sell our produce?”

Liv took a breath. “I’ll answer all of your questions as well as I can, but since we all have one major concern, let me address it to everyone.”

“Everybody sit down.” Fred Hunnicutt, bless his heart, was the voice of reason. Everyone sat down amid a shuffle and scraping of folding chairs.

“Let me just say, first off, that you all did an incredible job this past month and especially this past weekend.”

“For all the good it did.”

Someone rapidly hushed the speaker.

“I want you to know that I left a good job in the city because I saw the possibilities in Celebration Bay, the room for growth and for success. And I intend to see that we do grow and we are successful.”

“Yeah,” someone shouted.

A smattering of applause.

“The trustees are concerned for everyone’s safety, and this is why the suggestion was made of postponing, not ending, the events until the police investigation is wrapped up.” She was choosing her words carefully, but a little voice in her head was chiding her for her cold, legalese-like speech.

“Why don’t they just arrest one of the Zoldoskys—”

“Or all of them.”

“Because,” Liv said before things got out of hand and the committee meeting turned into a free-for-all, “the law’s responsibility is to protect as well as to arrest. Or none of us would be safe. We must be patient.”

“While we go broke.”

“I said patient, while we continue to set up for October.”

“So they’re not gonna close us down?”

Liv jumped off the fence. “Not if I have any say in it. But to insure we can continue, we have to be proactive.”

“You mean like bringing in the Zoldoskys ourselves.”

“No!” Liv yelled, appalled. “First of all, no one is taking the law into their own hands. That would be death to any hope of continuing the festivals.” She couldn’t believe she had to say something like that; she felt like she was living in the Wild West. “But the festivals have grown so large and so frequent that we really need to pay attention to security.”

“That’s what Bill Gunnison is supposed to do.”

“Yes, and he does. But he’s one man with a small force who is responsible for the entire county. We can help them by setting up so that there are fewer situations where accidents or violence can occur.”

“Like Joss’s apple press?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of store owners making sure alleys are well lit. That everyone should have a buddy when closing late. Be friendly but not careless when meeting new people. Report any suspicious activities or behaviors immediately to the police.” Should she mention that she wanted to hire a separate security force? Better to draw up a spec sheet and run it by the trustees first.

“It’s a question of being intelligent.” She saw Bill Gunnison enter through the back door. “Now, Sheriff Gunnison would like to address a few words to the group.”

Bill walked down the crooked, makeshift aisle. His sciatica seemed to be better, since he was almost standing upright. He stepped onto the platform, and Liv moved aside to give him the floor.

“Thank you, Liv. I couldn’t have said those things better myself. Vigilance is the key to safety.”

“Didn’t help Pete Waterbury.”

“No, but Pete’s death was an unusual situation,” Bill said. “I guess it’s no secret that the man was murdered by an unknown assailant. I’m asking anyone with any information, who thinks they might have seen something, to please come forward.”

There was a rustling of chairs.

“Not now,” Bill amended hastily. “I know Liv here needs to wind up the reports from September so she can get started on October. I’ll be here for a while after the meeting, or if anyone prefers anonymity, they can call the tip hotline.”

He nodded to Liv and stepped down.

“Okay,” said Liv, moving back to the center of the platform. “If I could have the committee chairs and their subchairs and assistants down front, we’ll move through this as quickly and efficiently as possible. The rest of you, thank you for coming. There’s a suggestion box in the lobby for ideas on improving the event, and I’m sure Sheriff Gunnison will welcome any information you might be able to give.”

There was a mass exodus to the back door. She hoped Bill didn’t get bombarded with useless speculation.

The rest of the meeting proceeded without too much argument. Ted collected reports and monies, and he and Fred Hunnicutt took them to the office safe until they could be checked against receipts and taken to the bank the next morning.

When the last committee member had gone home, Liv
returned to the office to find Ted, Fred, and Bill deep in conversation. They fell silent as she entered.

“Gentlemen?” she asked, inviting information.

“Well, I’d better be going,” Fred said. “You need an escort, Liv?”

“No, thanks. I need to talk to Bill for a minute.”

Ted lifted his jacket off the coatrack. “Then I’ll take off, too. See her home, Bill?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those two move so fast,” Liv said as soon as the door closed behind Ted and Fred. “Sort of like rats on a sinking ship.”

Bill’s brow furrowed.

“They were so eager to leave, I wonder if they were avoiding talking to me?”

“Nah,” Bill said. “We were just talking about the funeral. Wednesday at the Presbyterian church. Joss asked us to be pallbearers.”

Interesting
, thought Liv. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

Bill shrugged. He looked years older than he had a few days before. “Put me in a bit of an awkward position. I had to turn him down. My good friend, and I couldn’t be a pallbearer for his brother.”

“Because you’re investigating the murder?”

“Something like. Investigations take you to places you don’t necessarily want to go.”

“Like?”

“Aw, hell, Liv. I can’t discuss the case.”

“I realize that, Bill. And trust me, I don’t want any gory details. But I do need some information. The trustees are threatening to close down the upcoming events until this murder is solved. Which means it needs to be solved yesterday.”

“Damn. It ain’t gonna happen that easy. I’ve done about all I can do while I’m waiting for the damn forensic reports
to come back. Murder in a small town isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“If we lose Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, not to mention the whole ski season, I don’t know how long it will take to recover. Or if the town will be able to recover. We can’t afford to take that chance, Bill.”

“We’re in a mess, Liv, no doubt about it.” He slumped down on the edge of Ted’s desk and frowned at the floor.

Liv took that as an invitation. She sat down in the armchair facing him.

“Do you have any leads? I won’t gossip. I’ve survived the society pages of New York City. I know how to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open.”

Bill’s own eyes lit up. “Did you see anything?”

“No, but I talked to Anton when I took them their check Sunday. He said they’d never told anyone Pete was a Zoldosky. That was just an assumption we made.”

“That’s what he told me.”

Liv thought back to her visit to the field, the commotion in the trailer before Pete somersaulted out. “But Pete did.”

“How so?”

“Well, he didn’t actually say he was a Zoldosky, but last Friday, I went out to remind them panhandling wasn’t allowed. I knocked on the trailer door. No one answered, but someone was watching me from the window. Then there was a lot of crashing and banging inside; then Pete somersaulted out the door and landed at my feet. He wasn’t wearing greasepaint, wasn’t disguising himself in any way. Because he’d checked me out from the window and knew I wasn’t someone from his past. Maybe he was even testing his disguise out on me. Because he bowed and welcomed me, I assumed he was a Zoldosky.